The doors to the terrace creaked open, and Edward flinched. He turned to see Alex, carefully dressed in warm clothes for the cold weather, standing on the step. Mrs. Trench stood behind him, neat as always.
“Go on, Alex,” she whispered, nudging him forward. “Go and join your father.”
Alex shuffled closer and smiled nervously. “Good morning, Papa.”
“Good morning, Alex. I thought it would be nice for us to go on a ride together, just you and me, to talk about some things.”
Alex eyed his father for a long moment, curious and thoughtful.
“I think it will be nice,” he said, at last. “Where will we go?”
“Just to the top of the hill and back,” Edward answered, overcome by a sudden rush of relief.
It was silly, really, to be so relieved that his own son wanted to spend time with him.
A good father wouldn’t be surprised. A good father would already spend enough time with his son, rather than pretend they did not live in the same house together.
The truth was that Miss Belmont’s words to him in the study had shaken him.
If an absolute stranger could see that Edward’s relationship with his son was tenuous, what could the rest of the household see? Was Alex suffering? Was he unhappy?
Am I repeating the mistakes my father made? If so, how can I stop it?
It was time to mount, and Edward watched Alex climb nimbly up into his saddle first. The groom would follow them at a respectful distance, giving the two of them privacy.
Ideally, at least.
“Ready?” Edward asked, turning his horse around.
Alex nodded. “I’m ready, Papa.”
The two of them headed directly up the hill, a stony path that sloped steeper and steeper. There was another path up ahead,one that snaked through the forest, but Edward had already decided that they wouldn’t take it. It was too narrow and rough. Alex was only eight, after all.
Edward had imagined that Alex would chatter about everything and nothing, like he had when he was younger, and Edward would just listen benevolently.
Easy.
But Alex stayed quiet, and the silence stretched out between them.
Don’t be a coward,Edward told himself angrily.
He cleared his throat and spoke. “So, then, Alex. How are you feeling?”
Alex blinked up at him. “Feeling? About what?”
Edward shrugged. “About what happened yesterday. About all of it.”
“Oh, I see.” Alex paused, considering. “Well, I wish I could have joined you for supper.”
“Yes, that was my fault. I thought it wasn’t proper for children to sit at the table, but I guess other people like informal meals, too. You’re going to join us in the future, I promise.”
Alex smiled up at his father. “I’m glad, Papa. And I like Miss Belmont. I like her very much.”
Edward cleared his throat again. “So… you don’t mind my getting married again? It can be a difficult thing for a young boy to accept, I’ve heard. I know Mrs. Trench has explained all of this to you, but it might take time to?—”
“I’m glad you’re marrying Miss Belmont,” Alex interrupted. “I like her, and I think she’ll make an excellent new mama. Do…” He paused uncertainly, glancing up at Edward. “Do you think she’s happy here? Would she have been happier going back to London?”
“I imagine shewouldhave preferred to go back to London,” Edward snorted. “But she was already ruined before she left. Not that she’s a badwoman, of course,” he added hastily, lest his son get any uncomfortable ideas that he might repeat in public. “But she made some mistakes. It’s easy enough to make mistakes, you know.”